


Reflection

by Katlyn1948



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Mulan (1998) Fusion, Death, F/M, Inspired by Mulan (1998), More Like 1800's?, Not Set in China, Post-High School, Pretending to be a man, SOLDIER - Freeform, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlyn1948/pseuds/Katlyn1948
Summary: Westeros is at war, and with the enemy raging closer to home, one male from every family must serve. But with her brother's gone and her father crippled, Arya decides to take matters into her own hands and disguises herself as a man to fight in her father's stead.But what she doesn't expect during a war is to find friendship and love.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Hot Pie, Arya Stark & Ned Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Hot Pie & Arya Stark & Gendry Waters
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at summaries...so, it is basically a Mulan inspired fic that I got the idea for while watching Mulan. It is not a direct copy, just taking references and ideas from the 1998 movie. 
> 
> I was going to rate it as Teen, but then I realized I want some violence and bloodshed and yeah...so mature it is! 
> 
> Also, I will continue it, it's just the updates might be every two weeks. I am trying to space them out, because I have other stuff I want to update and write. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

War was imminent.

There was no stopping the Lannister army as it marched beyond the borders of King’s Landing, ravening everything in their path. As their forces grew closer to crossing through the Riverlands, the other Kingdoms of Westeros decided to but their differences aside and band together to defeat a common enemy.

A decree was declared that every family around the remaining regions of Westeros would provide a body to fight; a son to sacrifice. Yet, the Stark did not have any expendable sons. Robb had passed, a tragic horse accident. Jon was beyond the wall. Bran was crippled and Rickon was too young to fight. That only left her father, who had tired in his years.

He could hardly walk; an old injury flaring in his old age, yet he was determined and took his sword from the old wars and practice in the training yard.

The call had yet to come, but Arya knew that soon her father would leave to fight a war; his death destined to come. It was a bittersweet thought. She admired her father’s tenacious spirit, but knew his body was failing him. If he went to war, she knew he would never return.

But her thoughts could not linger on her father’s bleak fate, for she was to ready herself for marriage.

If her father were to perish, then it would be up to her and Sansa to bring wealth into the family. They would have to marry well; to respectable families that could take care of her widowed mother, her crippled brother, and the smallest of them, who would never remember the events of what was happening around him.

The idea of finding a husband was easier said than done.

For Sansa, her lessons came easy to her; the matchmaker had called her a delight to work with and any high family would be honored to have her as a wife. But for Arya, she detested the idea of being sold to the highest bidder and would try her hardest to make sure she was undesirable. The matchmaker had called her impossible and would never find a family that would accept her. She feigned disappointment when those words were said, but behind her façade, she rejoiced.

She was never meant to please a man or to bear his children. She had much more to look forward to, and if were not for the bloody war raging outside their door, she could travel the land, embarking on her own journey of self-discovery.

Arya knew her heart, yet as she stared at her reflection at the made-up doll she was supposed to be, she wondered if that was all her life was meant to be. She was hardheaded, but not nearly enough to tell her mother the secrets of her heart. She had hoped her constant aversions to the dresses and lessons would have given her mother some inclination as to what she didn’t want, but It seemed her efforts were moot, for she was enduring yet another evening of tea drinking and gossiping with the ladies of their keep.

“Did you hear that Lola finally found a match? Her mother was ecstatic!” Jeyne giggled as she took a bite of her finger sandwich. 

“It is about time! She was reaching spinster age.” Sansa chimed, putting in her two cents.

“Soon enough it will be my Sansa. I cannot wait until that day arrives.” Her mother mused.

Arya was sure that there was a smile wide across her face as she thought of the prospect of her eldest daughter being married off. She honestly didn’t care and had kept herself distracted with the teacup in front of her. She had put too many sugar cubes in the small cup to find the tea palatable, and instead twirled the tiny spoon within cup for the hundredth time.

Teatime was torture, yet her mother insisted that she join the other girls every Thursday evening. There was no point in arguing, for she would lose that battle, so instead she would grin and bear it for the two hours it took for them to gossip, only to walk briskly out the room before her mother had a chance to stop her.

The company around her seemed to understand her dislike and would usually stray from asking her any questions, opting to mingle with the others around the table. Jeyne, in particular, would actively avoid conversations with Arya, even when they weren’t forced to have tea and tiny sandwiches. The only time she would speak to Arya was to remind her that she was undesirable and destined to be alone forever.

“Arya!”

She snapped her gaze to her sister who looked rather annoyed at the thought of talking to her.

“What?”

Sansa ticked her teeth in disappointment, “Did you not hear what I said? Or were you too enthralled with that teacup of yours?”

Arya shook her head, clearing out her thoughts before responding, “Sorry, I was a bit distracted.”

“I said ‘do you know if Meera has found a match?’”

Arya shrugged, “I dunno…Meera hasn’t answered my letters in nearly a week. I know she was supposed to meet up with the matchmaker a few days ago, but I haven’t heard from her.”

It wasn’t unlike for her best friend to go weeks without answering Arya’s letters, but as the war grew dangerously close to Meera’s home, the letters became frequent. Perhaps it was the fear that had turned Meera into seeking companionship more than usual. Her father and brother had already left to go fight in the war, leaving only she and her mother to fend their keep. It had been difficult, that much Arya knew, and her friend had confessed that she wouldn’t mind being matched, if it meant she could escape the realties of the war around her.

They had much in common, her and Meera. That is why they became as close as they did. They both detested the idea of being matched and would much rather forge their own paths in life. Luckily, coming from a lesser house, Meera could have that choice, if it weren’t for her mother. Lady Reed came from a high house and was matched with Lord Reed. Naturally, she thought her daughter should be matched as well.

“Well, I do hope she was able to find a match. I do not even want to think about the prospect of not finding one!”

Arya rolled her eyes at her sister’s comment, “Gods forbid you end up alone.”

“Watch your tongue! Besides, if anyone is destined to be alone, it’ll be you. No one wants to match with a horseface.” Her sister snapped, letting the horrible nickname sink into Arya’s skin.

“Girls! That is enough!” Her mother was quick to stop their bickering, but it didn’t stop Jeyne from snickering. Arya had half a mind to smack her, but restrained herself, clenching her fist to keep if from hitting Jeyne’s face.

She pushed from her chair letting it clatter the floor. She was having a relatively good day, until her sister had to open her mouth.

“Where do you think you are going?” Her mother stopped her, grabbing her wrist before she could exit.

“It is obvious that I am not welcome. I’d much rather spend my time walking about the castle grounds, if that is alright with you.”

There was some hesitation in her mother’s face, but she conceded, nodding her approval, “Very well, but stay close. We should be finishing up shortly.”

Arya gave a curt nod before swiftly leaving the room, sighing in relief as she closed the door behind her. It was suffocating in that room, and she couldn’t stand the intensity that had arisen with her spar with Sansa. She knew she wasn’t entirely welcomed; she was different from the rest of them and had nothing to say to them, nor them to her. If she was being honest, she was just taking up space in their perfect hideaway.

That’s why she left, opting to walk around the castle grounds in order to clear her head.

She found solace in solidarity, for it gave her time to think without any repercussions. It was the only time she had to be truly herself. She could let the façade drop, no longer putting on a front for her mother or the other people around the keep.

Aside from her own being, the only other person she didn’t have to hide from was her father.

He understood her nature but didn’t want her to have to struggle. Although he believed in letting his children find their own way, he wanted Arya to match with someone. She knew he feared for her wellbeing, especially when he would finally be summoned to fight. He didn’t want her to be alone or have to worry about money once he did perish.

It was a solemn thought, and although she wanted to appease her father, she couldn’t bring herself to match with someone if it wasn’t what she wanted. Sure, it could bring respect, honor even, to herself and her family, but was it worth it if it meant her unhappiness? Her entire life she had been told that she would present herself to the matchmaker and be wedded off to some high lord to produce children and heirs. It was monstrous, and she could never imagine subjecting any of her children to that fate.

Arya knew she would go her own way; it was just a matter of when and how.

Being under her mother’s reign, she had no choice but to follow her every rule; it didn’t mean, however, that she would make it easy. But being watched like a hawk from the moment she was born had gotten a bit tiresome and she was ready to free from her mother’s iron fist.

She had thought of the prospect of running away, but with the war going on, she wasn’t sure how far she could get without running into soldiers from both sides. It was risk, but she wasn’t sure it was one she was willing take just yet.

She could just grin and bear it; appease her mother while plotting all the ways she could make the matchmaker not want to marry her off. She had already made quite the reputation for herself during her last visit to the matchmaker, spouting off all the things that she did that no lady like herself should do. The face the matchmaker had made was one for the books, and Arya was sure to commit to memory.

But then she would see the disappointment in her father’s eyes, and she couldn’t bear to see his heart break at her unwillingness to even try.

Arya huffed out a heavy sigh. She was conflicted. She wanted to follow her heart and forge her own path, but she also didn’t want to see the hurt in her family’s eyes. She may not like the constant torture her mother puts her through, but she knows its with good will in her heart.

As she stumbled along the loose gravel path around her home, she skirted by the small pond nestled right at the entrance of their Godswood. It housed a few fish, and there were wildflowers that grew around the stone overlay. It was a particularly sunny day, and the shine of the sun reflecting off of the pond’s surface gave it a reflective mirror like quality.

Arya took her seat beside the pond, letting her fingers skim across the smooth surface of the water, causing ripples to erupt throughout it. The water was cool and tickled the tips of her fingers as she continued to run them through the pond, thinking about the ways she could appease both herself and her family’s appetite for her impeding marriage. But as she stared at her reflection before her, Arya couldn’t help but think that she could never truly be herself, not while she was stuck behind Winterfell’s gates.

But it’s a fickle thing, one’s reflection, because they may show what one looks on the outside, not realized that there is someone else entirely on the inside.

And that was Arya.

She scoffed at the silly idea, splashing her hand through the surface of the pond, disrupting the reflection, and pushed herself up from the pond’s edge.

Dusting her dress off, she continued on her solemn walk that only turned more somber as the sound of trumpets erupted through the air. 

The summons had arrived and her father was going to war.


End file.
